


Little Red Riding Hood with the Blond Hair

by sae_what



Series: Ladrien June 2020 [3]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: AdriNoire, Adrien Agreste Is So Done, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Bad Flirting, Charming Lady Noire, Chat Noir Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Lady Noir, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fairy Tale Curses, I need more Misternoire AUs, Kwami Swap, Ladrien June 2020, Lady Noire is a Little Shit, Ladybug Adrien Agreste | Mister Bug, Or She Tries to be, Reluctant Allies to Chaotic Best Friends to Lovers, Sarcastic Adrien Agreste, Some Plot, that should be an official ao3 tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:49:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24812611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sae_what/pseuds/sae_what
Summary: Lips stained with chocolate, cheeks flushed with guilty pink, the first words her mouth utters, full of food, is “It’s not what it looks like.”Lady Noire is not the big bad wolf in the story. And because Adrien believes in happy endings, he gives her the benefit of the doubt, despite their horrible first impressions.Or, the two quest to find the person who cursed Lady Noire, and the person who took away Adrien’s only family.Day 9: Lady Noir
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Lady Noir/Mister Bug
Series: Ladrien June 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1766767
Comments: 21
Kudos: 29





	1. The Big Bad Wolf(?)

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be for Ladrien June, but... I got carried away, so this isn't technically Ladrien...? It's Adrinoire, with the kind of dynamic that Misternoire has.
> 
> I love Misternoire’s dynamic so much 🥺 Gimme Mister Bug being done with Lady Noire’s teasing and clownery... Is that so much to ask for?

Adrien wouldn’t have ever imagined his day unfold this way. One moment, he was getting berries for a pie he and his mother were about to bake, and the next... he returned to the cottage from a peaceful walk in the woods, and now he was greeted by a dark-cladded woman, her back turned to his and arched over like a cat, audibly munching on leftover goods his mother had baked two nights ago.

Lips stained with chocolate, cheeks flushed with guilty pink, the first words her mouth uttered, full of food, was “It’s not what it looks like.”

Her hand hung in the air after its grip freed the bitten loaf of bread. Guilty cat-like eyes shot at him, glowing an unnatural color of piercing green, dark silk masking most of her face. They were wide, terrifyingly wide, with caution. 

Dishes and silverware scattered the floor as the stained table cloth lay haplessly with them. Broken glass sprawled across the wooden floor. A shattered photograph of Adrien and his mother, crooked against the wall, as if it was struggling to prevent its fall with the rest of their broken things. 

His mother. She would lay on the couch quietly and patiently when her son returned home. She’d give him a tired yet welcoming smile, tired from the housework, and tired from the lack of sun and mucky weather. But she had reassured Adrien was her sunshine. All the time.

But she wasn’t there. She was gone. 

And just like that, Adrien’s radiance, any self-assuredness he felt, flushed right out of him.

_It’s not what it looks like._

Yeah. Right.

 _I think you know well enough that you’ve been caught red-handed._ This was what he could've said, but instead, he stood ice-frozen. Bravery failed him in this instant, his eyes darting around the cottage to double and triple check that if his mother was really gone.

The cat-like woman slowly crawled her way closer to him. “I didn’t make this mess. I swear. I was hungry, and... It was like this when I came.”

His eyes were failing him. He found nothing, and he couldn’t find his voice either. Adrien decided to let his actions speak, as he inhaled a breath of courage. Intuitively, he reached for his trademark weapon that slung on his shoulder, loading his bow with an arrow. 

“Spill the truth. Where’s my mother?” he asked firmly. 

Panic slipped from her expression, her shoulders beginning to relax, albeit the weapon in Adrien’s grip. “Your mother? I don’t know...”

He raised his bow, not giving up the fight. “Where is she—?”

“What do you go by?” Her pointed ears perked up as she stroked her long braid that cascaded down to the floor. She looked at Adrien from head to toe, her lips curling to a smile as she observed his polka-dotted red cloak. “Little Red Riding Hood. With the blond hair? Mister... Ladybug. Mister Bug... Hmm, doesn’t sound right...” She tapped her finger to her chin, then gave him a wide grin of conclusion. “Bugaboy?” 

Adrien, blood boiled and teeth gritted, held out his loaded bow and pointing the arrow at the tip of her nose. “Look, you’re not making the best first impression here. Let me make one thing clear. If I hear another word that comes out of your mouth that doesn’t answer my question, I won’t hesitate to shoot.”

She peered at the tip of the arrow, cross-eyed, then back at Adrien. Her smile turned to a frown. 

“You’re pointing that weapon at the wrong person, bug.”

Adrien raised a brow, his gaze still plastered on hers. “Oh, really?” 

“You’re not the best at first impressions yourself. I can see right through you, so don’t waste your time trying to seem intimidating, little bug.“ Her expression was unfazed, unafraid. 

Adrien pursed his lips, glancing at her waiting hands with hesitation. Her tone of voice assured him that she meant no harm, but those were his instincts speaking. He had to listen to his head. It’s what his mother would’ve wanted him to do, especially in front of a stranger. 

But his arms were growing, his weapon still positioned ready. It was probably unwise to let his guard down so quickly. Still, he lowered his weapon. 

She let out a light sigh of relief, then held out her clawed hand. “I guess we both need to start over. I go by Lady Noire. What’s yours?”

Adrien peered back at the cracked picture of him and his mother. His calm resurfaced, but his worries hadn’t completely washed away. Lady Noire turned to where he was looking.

“You want to look for your mother.” Lady Noire quieted, analyzing the tone of the boy in the picture. Bright smile, almost as if one could hear his laughter. And now, he was standing here, a little aged-up, and a lot less light-hearted and eager.

“I do,” was the only words Adrien managed to respond.

She lifted the edges of the table cloth, shaking her head in shame at the scattered fragments of glass. “There were signs of struggle here. Your mother was most likely captured.”

“My mother was never one to make enemies.”

“Are you sure?” Lady Noire’s forehead creased, asking with full intention of curiosity rather than doubt.

But it was Adrien who was doubting. A memory of her flashed before him. 

His mother’s story book. 

His nightmares that woke him up. 

His fear that kept him up. 

Or perhaps the better subject in mind was the fear his _mother_ had. What was she so afraid of that kept her from hiding something from his own son?

Adrien shoved the memory behind. “I’m sure.”

Lady Noire rested her hands on her hips. “So are you going to tell me your name, Little Red? Because I’m starting to prefer these nicknames—“

“Adrien,” he said before Lady Noire could continue to name call.

It didn’t help though. “Adrien is okay, I guess, but I like Bugaboy better.”

Adrien’s shoulder slouched over, unamused as he rolled his eyes. “Then why bother to ask?” he muttered.

Lady Noire gave him a solid pat on the back, her tone now less comical. “Be serious. We have to find your mother.”

 _Like you weren’t just name calling me two seconds ago._ Adrien couldn’t quite grapple with the fact that Lady Noire had already grown comfortable around him. 

She clunked a fist in the palm of her hand, coming to a deduction. “She’s probably around the village.”

The back of Adrien’s throat hardened. “Th-the village?”

“Yeah. Is that a problem?”

His mother’s voice echoed in his mind. _Stay out of the village. Never leave beyond the woods. Don’t talk to strangers._

Just today, he had already broken one of her rules. He felt her stare from the picture shoot down right at him. She wouldn’t want him to do this.

“Lady Noire… Why are you helping me? What’s in it for you?” 

“You’re still doubting me?” 

“Well, I _have_ only known you for ten minutes.”

Lady Noire let out a sigh and spilled the only truth she could. “I’ve been wandering the outskirts of the village for a while.” She looked down at her clawed hand, as if in deep thought. Silence swarmed between them until she added, “Having memories of you and your mother… it must be nice, huh?”

Adrien surveyed her demeanor, but she gave him nothing but an honest question. He was left to answer with an honest reply. “Some are nicer more than others… But yeah, it’s nice.”

She cracked a small smile. Not the playful or condescending kind that would suit her nature, but a gentle one. “You’ve giving me hope then. C’mon. Let’s go to the village.”

“Wait.” Adrien heard his voice escape his lips. 

Lady Noire’s steps came at a halt before she left the cottage.

“How do you expect me to trust you?”

“There’s a simple answer to that, Bugaboy.” She drew closer to him, holding out her hand for him to take. “Because you’ve got no one left to trust.”

Feeling like a gullible fool, desperate and nowhere else to run, he placed that trust into her smile, and placed his shaking hand into hers.


	2. Interlude: The Gingerbread House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback to when Adrien was six. A snapshot of a memory that wasn't quite nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, look at me go. Publishing TWO chapters? In ONE day? It's more likely than you think.
> 
> (Don't expect me to update this frequently lol)

Adrien preferred happy endings. 

“Adrien.” 

He and his mother lived in a simple cottage in the woods. She gave him freedom to explore it, for she explained that there would be no one except the two of them and some friendly creatures. 

The only strict rule his mother proposed: Do not go beyond the trees of the forest. 

Adrien would rarely question why. Once or twice, his mother had simply stated that it was too dangerous beyond the woods. No one was to be trusted. And Adrien had always accepted that answer. 

He appreciated his mother’s clear-cut communication with him. She had always been honest. He’d like to believe that she would never lie or keep anything from him, and if she did, he trusted that he would tell him when he was ready. 

Perhaps that was naive of Adrien to never pry, but to him, what mattered was that his mother took good care of him. They ate together, they talked, laughed, and played together. And that was enough. He felt blessed to live with her. 

The cottage smelled of meat and bread. His mother was a good cook and a good huntress. Adrien aspired to be able to do the same when he got older. 

“Adrien.” She called again, this time gentler, as she patted the empty spot beside her on the couch. 

The young boy hopped on as his mother cracked open an old picture book. 

“What is this?” Adrien perked. 

“Let me tell you a story about the two children who snuck deep into the woods,” she said. Adrien leaned in closer to view the picture of two children, a boy and a girl. They looked fairly young, maybe even the same age as Adrien. “They were hungry, and they stumbled upon a small home made of rock candy and cookies.”

The home pictured was made of all types of sweets Adrien could only dream of eating: lollipops, licorice, and all kinds of colorful candies.

His mother continued to recite the tale. “As the two hungry children are caught munching on the edges of her home, a woman greets them. She invites them warmly into his home. 

The woman was wearing a dark violet cape, hood up and pointed, and gray hay-like strands of hair that ran down to her chest. 

“She doesn’t look too friendly though,” Adrien observed. 

His mother nodded. “Precisely, Adrien. This woman calls herself The Witch. Of course, the children do not know this and decide to visit her home.”

A heavy feeling cast over his mother’s tone of voice as she continued to recite the story. The two siblings separate during their visit, and finally, the young girl is alone with The Witch. His mother turned the page, one from the next. 

The girl had been fooled.

And the witch had burned her alive in the oven.

His mother, tone even, told the last line of the story. “The Witch had a satisfying dinner,” adding the classic “The end.”

Adrien’s jaw dropped, eyes wide with horror. “What?!”

“What is it, Adrien?” His mother spoke softly. 

“That’s it? The story ends like that? What happened to the brother? Why does the evil Witch win? Isn’t this supposed to be a happy story? Why isn’t there a happy ending?”

His mother shook her head. “The takeaway is not the ending, Adrien, but the lesson.”

“What’s the lesson then?” the young boy frowned. “To not eat a house made of candy?”

“No, my dear.”

“Maybe the sister should’ve checked if her brother was in the backyard.”

She hummed, considering his comment. “Or, they shouldn’t have entered the witches house in the first place.” She closed the book shut, and that was the end of the discussion. 

That night, Adrien had a nightmare. An evil figure, cloaked in an ominous violet like the Witch in the story. Except the witch was a man. But his face could not be revealed, shrouded in darkness.

A child had their head inserted in the oven. Just then, the child whipped his head around, his charred face visible. 

The young boy with had eyes that glowed a familiar green, hair that still gave a bit of blond luster, despite being burnt off. That boy...

Adrien slowly raised his hands to his face, only to see a mirror in front of him, his face charcoal black, deteriorating with one light touch of his fingertips. 

He woke with cold sweat, turning towards the mirror and let out a sigh of relief when he saw the reflection of his very not-charred face. He lifted his blanket as he tiptoed into the living room, where his mother usually slept upon the coach. The wooden floor creaked. His mother shuffled but was still in deep slumber. 

Adrien took the picture book that rested on the end table, shuffling to the very end. 

He viewed the picture of the young girl with her head inside the oven, then skimmed to the next page, only for him to realize there was no next page. 

The last couple pages had been torn off. 

This was good. This meant there was more to the ending then, right? Adrien felt relieved, but only initially. 

His relief slowly succumbed to a feeling of dread. 

He brushed his fingertips to the torn ridges of the happy ending that his mother never bothered to tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any theories about Adrien’s mom?
> 
> The soundtrack I was listening to while writing: [Runescape OST.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wv-7hILtUI4) Used to play this game a lot as a kid.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if I'll ever continue this, actually... Might just stop at Ch 2... I already have another WIP to write, but if you guys _really_ want me to continue this story, leave an encouraging comment :)
> 
> As always, I appreciate you guys x
> 
> Tumblr: [sae-what](https://sae-what.tumblr.com/)


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